


Tied

by My_Trex_has_fleas



Series: Land and Sea [19]
Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: BDSM Scene, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Object Insertion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/pseuds/My_Trex_has_fleas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross feels negelected and acts out. Jim has to put him back in line.</p><p>This takes place in the Modern AU, two years after Jim and Ross meet. It is after Ross has come back from Afghanistan and they are now living together.</p><p>Trigger warning for bondage and edging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tied

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post from 500K Prompts.

Ross watched Jim across the table, chewing on his lower lip. It was an old pine table, square and sturdy and scarred. A little like him, he thought with a sardonic quirk at the corner of his mouth. Jim was on shore leave for three weeks, a long time by naval standards but the Dragon was in for routine maintenance and that meant plenty of time off. Jim, of course, found it hard to switch off for that length of time and made frequent excursions to Portsmouth, catching up on paperwork and doing systems checks. It had annoyed Ross a little. His time with Jim was precious to him, but sometimes his boyfriend forgot that. Not on purpose, of course, but simply because his job was so tied up with who he was. It made Ross feel belligerent. It also made him insecure as he battled with the feeling that Jim would rather be out of his company than in it. And Jim had had an early morning call from Sellar about something to do with the advanced weapons system that Jim was an expert on, and now Jim was dressed neatly in his working rig, long sleeved white shirt with his lieutenants flashes on the shoulders, black tie perfectly knotted and looking the epitome of shipshape and Bristol fashion. He had his officer’s cap on the table in front of him along with his car keys and mobile.

So Ross sat and glared at Jim, knowing he was being childish. But he also knew that two years together had made Jim more than aware of his moods, his sulks and his mercurial changes. And that Jim’s quiet calm smoothed him out when nothing else could. And for the other times, when the horrible stretched feeling came back and he started to feel panicky and unsure of their relationship, there was their own personal solution.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or do I have to guess this morning?’ Jim said, not lifting his head from the book he was reading. That was a quirk that Ross had had to get used to. Jim read almost constantly - on the train, in the car, in the bath (and more than one paperback had to be left on the windowsill in the living room, which got the full sun, when Jim accidentally dropped it in the water). And normally he didn’t mind, liked to have the time to stare uninterrupted at his beloved. Two years had diminished none of Ross’ desire for him.

‘You’re busy reading.’ Ross replied, and Jim put down the book. He gave Ross a knowing look, and Ross knew that Jim had seen straight through him. He always did.

‘What’s wrong, baby?’ he asked, and Ross felt a thrill at the nickname. Jim only really used it when they were fucking or on the way to fucking. He knew then that Jim had obviously picked up on his current mood. He locked eyes with him, watching as Jim’s breathing shifted ever so slightly, the subtle change in his body language. He got up from the table, and walked to Ross. His fingers trailed lightly along the scarred wood, and Ross’ pulse stuttered and sped up. He remembered that first time so many months ago when Jim had threatened to fuck him on the table. They’d done that and a whole lot more since moving in together.

He got to Ross and took his chin in his hand, tilting Ross’ face up to look at him searchingly. They stared at each other, the intimacy of the direct gaze asking the question and answering it. But Jim was a stickler for procedure, on and off the ship.

‘What do you want?’ he asked, and his voice had dropped into that lower register that drove Ross insane with want. He knew that he would effectively be sealing his fate.

‘I want you to be home.’ he said, and the tremor was there in his voice.

‘You know I have to go in.’ Jim’s voice was reasonable. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ His thumb smoothed along Ross’ lower lip, and there was an almost electric crackle in the air between them. ‘I don’t know when exactly, but I’ll try to make it as quick as possible. And when I get back, we can play. Would you like that?’ That made Ross shiver. He knew what that meant. And, as always, Jim had known that was what he wanted, what he needed.

‘Yes.’ he said. Jim’s eyes were like blue-green lasers in their intensity as they watched him.

‘And what would you like me to do to you?’ he asked, voice as casual as if he’d just asked Ross if he wanted another cup of coffee. Inwardly he wanted to shout. Jim usually took the lead in their scenes, completely dominating the how and when. If he was offering a chance to Ross to express a preference for what they would be doing later, it meant a great deal and Ross’ felt like he couldn’t love him any more if he tried.

‘Fuck me.’ he whispered, and saw the heat flare in Jim’s eyes at the words. ‘Fuck me till I cry.’

**********

The day dragged, just like Jim knew it would. He was stuck in meetings with the systems engineers for most of the morning, arguing about updates and performance controls. He had pushed everything aside on the drive in to Portsmouth, music blaring to drown out the excitement that was building inside him.

It didn’t help that every now and then his phone would buzz. The messages had been completely innocent at first. Ross was out jogging, in spite of his earlier mood. He sent pictures of the view down the valley from where the road led to their cottage. The sky was clear and the autumn day was looking to be quite lovely. It was completely opposite in Portsmouth which seemed to be stuck in a fog bank.

Those had changed to pictures of the woodland that lay below the fields that the cottage backed onto. Then the pictures had changed. The first one had simply been of Ross leaning against a tree, the sun shining in his face and changing his eyes from hazel to golden brown. Jim smiled as he looked at it. He knew that Ross had been insecure about his looks ever since he’d been injured in Helmand, but he thought the lurid scar made him look even better, even if Ross didn’t believe it just yet. It had taken a long time to get his confidence back, not only in their bed but out of it as well.

His phone buzzed again and Jim excused himself from the conversation to check the message. It was another shot of Ross against the tree, but the angle was different. The glare from the sun hid his face but Jim could see very clearly that he had a hand down the front of his pants.

That was interesting.

It was also very distracting and Jim had to focus extremely hard to get through the next thirty minutes of talk about relays and strike times. Thankfully, once they were done, Sellar suggested they get some lunch in the Officer’s mess and Jim was able to escape to the head. He was very glad he did when he looked at his phone and saw that Ross had sent him a five minute video. He locked himself in the cubicle, muted the sound and watched.

It did not help his excitement levels. Or his concentration.

**********

Ross came up the road, feeling pleasantly worn out and loose limbed. The run had been good, but nothing compared to his little performance for Jim. He knew he’d get stick for that later, after all he was breaking the rules of no sending sexually explicit material while Jim was at work, but he knew that his boyfriend would never be able to resist watching it. And if that meant that Ross would be a little annoying presence in the back of his mind all day, then so much the better.  
He went in the kitchen door, chucking his keys and mobile on the counter and going to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, necking half of it before his phone rang. He felt a shiver go down his spine. It been just under an hour since he’d sent the video message and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting off just a little bit on the thought of what Jim’s reaction would be. He went to the counter, picking up his phone and checking the caller, even though he knew very well who it would be. He took a deep breath before answering then connected the call.

‘Hello.’ he said, trying to sound effortlessly casual and failing miserably. There was silence on the other side. Ross bit his lip. He knew this was all part of it and the wonderful surge of anticipation in his stomach told him that Jim’s silence was having the desired effect. It also indicated that the scene had just started, and that the rules would be in place until Jim said it was over. There were a few more minutes when nothing was said between them, although Ross could hear Jim’s breathing on the other side. It sounded a bit laboured, and Ross had the delicious thought that Jim had probably jerked off as well while he was watching the video. Eventually there was an intake of breath.

‘I’ll be home at four. Be ready.’ Then the call disconnected. Ross felt himself starting to get hard. It didn’t take much, knowing what was about to come.

***********

He spent the rest of the day in a mindless state of impatience, arousal and that wonderful numbness that always preceded a scene. The first time he’d gone under had been a surprise for both of them, and neither of them had really understood what was happening. A year later and they were both experts at reading the signs and understanding the stages that Ross would go through.

A huge part of achieving the correct mental state was preparation. Ross checked the clock. It was just after three. He’d resisted the urge to call, as it was against the rules. There would be no communication until Jim got home, and then it would be a strict case of speaking only when explicitly directed to. They’d discovered together that restricting Ross’ ability to communicate needed no physical manifestation. The instruction from Jim was enough to keep him silent.

Ross went into the room at the back of the house for what seemed like the hundredth time and surveyed the scene. It was kept empty, a spare room being a requirement for when they’d been looking for a place to rent. The white walls were unadorned and the wooden floor boards had a rich dark patina. There was an open brick fireplace in the far wall, already set with wood and kindling. Ross would light it shortly and allow it to burn enough to make the room pleasantly warm, but not so hot it would dehydrate him.

The room itself was empty except for a simple wooden sea chest that was painted and flaking, a dull faded grey green like a stormy ocean. Jim had brought it home from God knew where not long after they’d taken the decision to venture into this particular arena. He was not allowed to touch the box under any circumstances. That was part of the scene, and Jim kept all their gear in there. It was strictly separate from anything else they used in bed.

His phone buzzed and he took it out. There was a message from Jim. He opened it.

ETA 30 mins.

That was all it said. That was all it needed to say.

He went to the fire, bending down and lighting using the matches in his pocket. He didn’t need to check that it was burning properly. It had been part of the scene for many months now, and he was an expert at setting it correctly. He got to his feet, lit another match and lit the line of candles that ran along the mantelpiece. This was the only illumination allowed in the room. Then he went upstairs.

Their cottage was old and he had to duck when he got to the top of the stairs, but it was pretty much automatic by now. He went into their bedroom, shucking his clothes as he went and then went through to the bathroom which was through a door on the other side of their bed. The bathroom was period, not really changed since the thirties and the plumbing was creative to say the least. Their first week in the cottage had seen them both being shocked awake by noises that sounding like a sinking ship. It was the only time Ross had ever seen Jim go into emergency mode, getting out of bed and into his clothes before Ross had even had a chance to process what was going on. It had been an interesting little insight into his other half.

He got into the bathtub, turning on the shower and letting the heat build up until the water was lukewarm. He’d been on deployment enough times for cold water not to bother him, and he didn’t want to overheat himself too soon.

There would be enough of that later.

Ross washed himself off, not using soap. That was part of the ritual as well. Jim liked him to smell like himself, saying that when he was deep under that he smelt the strongest and most amazing he ever had. He stood and let the water rush over him, and his mind started to drift, but not fixing on any thought, just the sensations of the water and the smooth porcelain under his feet. He got hyper-aware when he was deep in a scene, to the point where he swore he could feel every last line of wood grain under his toes or smell the changes in Jim’s body chemistry as he moved through different stages of arousal.

He heard the alarm going off in the bedroom and pulled himself together enough to get out the shower. He felt languid and fuzzy around the edges, like he had been drinking. He dried off just enough and then went into the bedroom. He pulled on a clean pair of briefs and then dug through his bottom drawer in the chest of drawers for his jeans. Association was also important and these jeans were the ones he always used. They had been stained and washed so many times they were as soft as velvet, and more importantly, easy to get out of. He didn’t put on a shirt.

Once he was done he went back downstairs turning off lights as he went. It was almost completely dark now, and he knew that was how Jim would want it. When he got to the room it was well heated, and the candles twinkled at him. He moved to the middle of the room, got down on his knees and sat back on his heels. Then he placed his hands on his knees, closed his eyes and waited. His breaths steadied and evened out, getting deeper and longer. He focused only on that, knowing that he needed to be ready for Jim when he arrived. If he wasn’t he would have to wait longer. But then again, if he seemed too eager then Jim would make him wait anyway.

It wasn’t long before he heard the sound of Jim’s bike. He breathed in too sharply, the adrenaline starting to surge as he heard it cut out, and after a long moment the sound of Jim’s key in the door. Then the door opening and closing followed by the clipped sound of Jim’s boots on the floorboards. He moved past the doorway, the sound stopping for a moment. Ross knew he was looking in, taking in Ross shirtless and on his knees waiting for him. Then the footsteps moved away from the doorway and Ross heard him go up the stairs.

He waited.

************

Jim walked up stairs, fighting to calm himself and steady his breathing. It was imperative that when he went back in the room, that he was fully in control of himself. It was the only way they could do it.

But when he’d looked in the room, the view he’d been greeted with had taken his breath away. Ross was facing away from him, as he usually did. The room was an odd shape which meant that the fireplace was on Ross’ right hand side, the fire and the candlelight casting deep shadows and bringing out the dark red highlights in his hair. His head had been bowed, and Jim knew without having to look that his eyes were closed. The lights had washed over the pale skin of his naked back and shoulders, painting them in rich shades of gold and orange. He was beautiful.

Jim got to the room, noting the state of it, Ross’s discarded clothing on the bed and floor. He did the same, slowly stripping off his uniform before going into the bathroom to shower just as Ross had already done. It was all part of the ritual and would give him the time he needed to mentally prepare himself.

What they did could not be categorised. It wasn’t based on violence or the infliction of pain. It was simply something they did to quiet the demons in Ross’ head, and bring him back down to earth again. Even still, it had become something so very important to both of them and Jim was just as serious about following the steps as Ross was.

He didn’t wash so much as just wet himself down, towelling himself off roughly when he got out. He shook the water from his hair, but didn’t dry it further. Then he went into the room, taking clean boxers and an old and very faded pair of jeans from the back of the wardrobe. They had rips at the knees and were almost white from washing, but, like the pair he knew Ross was wearing, they were butter soft and he could get out of them at a moment’s notice. It also didn’t matter what he got on them.

Dressed as much as he was going to be, he turned off the light again and went downstairs. When he got to the doorway he took another moment to look at Ross, his cock hardening as he took in the acres of skin, the perfectly held pose. He could hear the little shift in Ross’ breathing and knew that Ross was getting as excited as he was.

He walked into the room, bare feet padding on the floorboards. He went to stand in front of Ross, looking down on his bowed head. There was no reaction, just as he expected. He watched, enjoying the gentle rise and fall of Ross’ broad shoulders as he breathed.

Then he left the room. There were things to be done.

***********

Ross as he listened to Jim padding around the room, the sound of his bare feet intoxicating. With his now heightened senses there was so much to take in – the sound of Jim’s movements, the smell of him, the almost electric disturbance of the air as Jim moved past him.

He knew that Jim had been standing in front of him, then had walked away. He didn’t move a muscle. There were noises from the kitchen, the sound of the fridge door being opened and closed and the very distinctive clink of ice and water. That set his nerves on fire as he realised what Jim had planned. It was one of his favourite things.

He sat, feeling the hard floor underneath his knees and toes, the burn starting to set in in his thighs and calves. It would be a while yet before anything happened, the waiting part of the ritual as Jim prepared the other things he needed.

The footsteps were back, light and even. Then Ross shook like a nervous horse as the lightest drift of fingertips moved across his shoulders when Jim walked past him. It was feather light and so much more intense for that. He breathed in sharply and the footsteps stopped. He knew that Jim was watching him and he forced himself to regulate his inhalations and exhalations until they were smooth and steady again. Then the footsteps moved and he heard the sound of the sea chest being opened and then objects being taken out – heavy silken cord, lube and the small cushion that Jim would lay on the floor for later so his forehead didn’t knock against the floorboards. They had learned that one the hard way after Ross had ended up with a bump on his forehead the size of a cricket ball after one particularly hard thrust. He’d had difficulty explaining that one away. The last thing he heard was the sound of Jim plugging in the docking station and then the music started. It had taken some time for them to come up with a playlist, but it was heavy on the Depeche Mode.

He felt the air move again and then the fingertips ghosted over the hair at the back of his neck. It was getting hard for him to determine Jim’s exact whereabouts and he knew he was starting to slip into that glorious state just before the move into something deeper. The sounds of Jim’s feet seemed unnaturally loud to him, and all the other sounds of the house or the trees outside faded into nothingness.

He’d long lost track of time, but knew it had to be at least half an hour since Jim had arrived home. His knees hurt but the pain was dull, taking the edge off the extreme arousal that he was starting to experience, kicked off by those butterfly touches. His skin seemed oversensitive and as Jim moved past him one last time, his fingers tracing across Ross’ chest this time, Ross moaned incoherently. The fingers stopped, lingering on his skin and they felt like spots of fire where they connected to him. Ross desperately wanted to open his eyes and see Jim, but he hadn’t been given the order yet and to do so would break the rules. So he focused on the fingers of his chest, luxuriating in how hard that simple contact was making him. His cock felt constrained by his jeans, just the right side of pain. But he also knew that it would be a long time before he found any relief.

‘Ross.’ Jim’s voice was wonderfully neutral, a flat edge to it that drove Ross crazy. ‘Look at me.’

He did, blinking in the light. Even though it was dim he’d had his eyes closed for some time and it was difficult to focus. Jim eventually came into view and Ross stifled a moan at how good he looked. The firelight made him a creature of gold and crimson, hair burnished and skin glowing. He looked down at Ross, the length of black silk cord heavy in one hand. His dark gold body hair caught the fire, little glints of light. He looked almost ethereal. Ross’ heart swelled with love and lust. Jim was all his, and his alone.

‘Safeword. What is it?’ Jim said and Ross focused enough to answer.

‘Aster.’ he said. It was a word that would catch Jim’s attention immediately and was easy for Ross to remember in his state of diminished capacity. He was rewarded with a half-smile, the only one he’d receive for the rest of the evening.

‘Good boy.’ Jim said. ‘Stand up for me.’

Ross leaned forward enough to get his feet under him, joints protesting at having been in one position for so long. He stood up and Jim did a slow circuit.

‘Hands behind your back.’ he said, and Ross obeyed. He bent his elbows at right angles so they were parallel to each other, palms flat against his forearms. He heard the snap of the cord as Jim doubled it over, and felt his breathing starting to speed up. Then the gentle but brisk touch of Jim’s hands as he pushed the first length of cord behind Ross’ arms and down over his wrists. The silk cord slid against his skin and then there was a second loop, binding his wrists. Jim tested the tension, two fingers tugging at it to make sure there was enough give to keep circulation good but not come loose. He made the first loop through and then there was a tugging as he worked the knot to the top of Ross arm, then twisted it and created a second loop before threading the cord through again. Then he gripped it loosely before sliding his hand down in a quick sure movement, locking the knot in. The force jerked Ross out of balance for a second and Jim’s hand came out to steady him, warm and strong at the small of his back.

‘On your knees.’ he said and Ross got down slowly, not having his hands to balance himself. Jim guided him down and when Ross was down in front of him, he placed his hand briefly at the nape of Ross’ neck, squeezing gently. The touch was reassuring, and Ross felt a deep serenity starting to descend upon him. He breathed deeply and the hand stayed in position.

‘Good.’ Jim said. ‘Next step.’ He moved to Ross side, standing perpendicular to him, sure hands bringing the cord up against Ross’ left upper arm, finding the natural dent that indicated the dip of the deltoid and sliding the cord into it before reaching around Ross’ body and bringing it across his chest and then around his right shoulder. The whole time Ross watched him as much as he could without turning his head, which he wasn’t allowed to do. Jim’s face was a picture of concentration, eyes tracing the cord with a critical look. The second wrap around Ross’ chest went just under the first one. Jim fed it behind the line that went from Ross’ wrists to his shoulder, pulling it through and tightening just enough to hold Ross still. He put a hand under Ross’ wrists, supporting them as he pulled the cord up and over the strands that went around Ross’ chest. He doubled the loop over and tugged it tight so there was the slightest burn in Ross’ arms. There was a moment of complex binding and compacting, Jim’s fingers brushing the skin of his back as he wound the cord over and through several times until he left a loop of cord hanging. The he took hold of Ross upper arm firmly and ran a finger under the cord, tugging firmly to settle the cord. Ross was pliant, allowing Jim to manhandle him. Satisfied by the fit of the cord, Jim now moved to stand in front of him at a slight angle so he could reach both in front of and behind Ross. Then he took the loose hanging loop and reach through the space between Ross’ left elbow and his body, threading the loop through so that he could pull it to the front.

Ross couldn’t take his eyes off him. He watched, entranced as Jim pulled the cord up behind the wraps around his chest, then over and back down through. He took care to make sure the ropes lay smoothly, not catching hair or the delicate skin. He drew it around Ross’ back, threading it under the knot stem at the back before repeating the process on his right side. Once he was done he repeated the earlier step, threading it through under the stem before making another wrap three fingers below the first set that ran around Ross’ upper chest. Jim brought it around just under his pectorals, taking care not to catch his chest hair in the cords. It went under the stem one more time and a second wrap was made before Jim moved to stand behind him, threading and looping the cord through and over the stem before completing it by repeating the move from just before, passing it between Ross’ arm and body again and the over the front wraps and through to his back. When both sides were done Jim finished it off by cinching it in firmly around the knot stem. The he stepped back and walked around Ross, tugging and smoothing here and there. When he was done he took a step back, eyes narrowing as he surveyed Ross.

‘Yes.’ he said, then locked eyes with Ross. ‘Down.’ Ross immediately sat on his heels, the dominant tone of Jim’s voice snapping all his attention to him, the whole room fading away as he focused solely on the man in front of him. Jim kept his gaze steady as he stepped forward until he was a foot from Ross, with Ross looking up at him.

The blow came out of nowhere.

The back of Jim’s right hand caught Ross on the right cheekbone, snapping his head to the left hard enough for his eyes to water and his head to swim. He gasped as the pain made it feel like the right side of his face was on fire. He was tempted to look up, knowing that any sign of defiance would result in another one. He was in a mood to push his boundaries.

‘That was for disobeying the rules.’ Jim’s voice was stern. Then he reached down, taking Ross chin in his hand and jerking him back to face him. ‘Do I have to remind you about what happens when you break them.’ Ross stared back, his eyes challenging, and didn’t answer. Jim’s grip tightened and heat flared through him like wildfire. ‘Answer me.’

‘No.’ he said. ‘I understand.’

‘Good.’ Jim released him. ‘But there are repercussions for your behaviour.’ He ran his eyes over Ross, who licked his suddenly dry lips and tried not to pant at the open desire he now saw in Jim’s eyes. ‘Because you’ve been disobedient, you’re going to have to prove to me that you can behave. So, that means that tonight you will only come when I give you permission to. Do you understand me?’ Ross kept his mouth shut and glared back at Jim.

Jim reached for him, fingers tangling in the longer hair at the crown of Ross’ head, gripping and tugging back hard enough to sting.

‘I said, do you understand me?’ he asked, punctuating his words with a rough shake of Ross’ head.

‘Yes.’ Ross gasped, the sting in his scalp firing off all sorts of feelings. Jim held him still and he finally couldn’t hold it in, panting as the arousal swept through him, stating to carry him up and away. Jim’s focus on him was pushing him past the barrier, the pain changing into something sweeter and purer.

Jim released his grip and the relief was a flood of wonderful numbness through his abused scalp. Ross watched as Jim stepped back and then moved out of his line of sight. He heard his footsteps retreating and then there was silence. It had a strange quality, muffled and dense. His previously heightened senses were now heading in the opposite direction, and he was feeling heavy-limbed and almost drunk.

Jim’s footsteps returned but now Ross couldn’t tell where they were coming from. Everything was quickly becoming indistinct and dreamlike, and he wavered. Then Jim’s hand was on his shoulder, a solid comforting weight. It anchored him back down, and the feeling of trust and safety was so strong it took his breath away. He gravitated towards it, and Jim stepped in towards him, letting Ross lean against his hip as he dropped.

‘That’s it baby.’ he murmured, his voice thick and rich as honey. ‘I’m here, I’ve got you. Remember I’ll never let you fall.’ Ross heard himself whimper, but was so far away from it now that sounded like someone else. His fingers stroked through Ross’ hair and it was so intoxicating that Ross moaned loudly. His cock throbbed painfully in his jeans, so hard that he could feel every inch of it straining against the fabric of his briefs. Then the gentle fingers were gone and Jim stepped away from him. Ross whined pleadingly at the loss of contact.

‘Not yet.’ Jim said. ‘You have work to do.’ He went to the sea chest and Ross could just make out the glint of glass of the bowl now sitting on top. Jim dipped his fingers in the bowl and then he was back. The first touch of the ice he held sent Ross’ head reeling, the slick surface of the partially melted cube tracing the line of his collarbone then up to the pulse point at the crook of his neck before Jim moved it to the hollow of his throat. Ross was openly panting now, harsh animal sounds because he had lost all capacity for speech. Jim lifted the ice, and let it run along Ross’ lower lip before lifting it to his own mouth and licking it, eyes locked on Ross the whole time. Ross moaned wantonly and Jim put the ice in his mouth, then got down on his knees so he was more or less level with Ross. He moved closer and then his mouth was on Ross neck, the combination of ice and warm tongue swiping at his skin so intense that Ross shouted. He strained against the cord, but the knots held fast.

Jim was merciless, running his mouth along the trail the cube had taken originally before dropping his head and sucking Ross’ nipple into his mouth, the ice cube skating over it. He worked it over and over, the ice making the sensitised skin tingle and little sparks of light go off behind Ross’ now closed eyes. His breathing was now at rapid fire speed, short and hard and loud. Nothing else existed for him, his whole existence pared down to Jim’s mouth and Jim’s tongue and the rapidly melting ice cube. Then it was gone.

Ross struggled for breath, almost blind with pleasure and sensation. Then Jim’s mouth was back, a new ice cube in place, and he sucked at the other nipple and Ross howled like a dog in heat. He desperately wanted to scream, to swear, to tell Jim to fuck him hard and fast until he was choking on his cock. But that would be breaking the rules and he couldn’t.

The torture continued, ice cube after ice cube running over his nipples, his chest, his neck. Finally, when he was drenched in sweat and his chest was heaving, Jim slipped the final cube into his mouth and kissed him, tongue sliding against Ross’ in a frenetic dance. He pulled on Ross’ hair, but the pain was gone now, replaced by nothing but deep throbbing pleasure. Ross moaned into Jim’s open mouth, twisting, desperate for friction, and Jim gave it to him, their slick bodies sliding against each other. Then he pulled Ross’ head back, separating them.

‘You’re so good, baby.’ he rasped, his voice rough and almost unrecognisable. ‘Such a good boy. Think you can come for me?’

‘Yes. Please. Please.’ Ross begged, desperate for Jim’s mouth, trying to follow it. Jim gave him a little shake.

‘Come on then.’ he breathed, making Ross break out in goose bumps. ‘I want to see you come without me touching you. I want you to come just from this, from imagining how fucking good it’s going to be when I stick my cock in you.’ He tugged on Ross’ hair again and Ross lost all control of himself, his orgasm rushing down on him like a runaway train. He came so hard his entire body jerked, and he felt the sticky warm rush of cum in his briefs. But when he was done he was still hard. He keened at the pleasure/pain and Jim smiled, sharp and feral.

‘Poor baby.’ he purred, and his hand was on Ross’ cock, squeezing lightly. ‘Still so hard for me. I bet I could make you come all night and you would still not have enough.’ He let go and got up off his knees. He moved forward. Through his blurred vision, Ross could see the bulge in his jeans, the lines of sweat running down his chest and stomach, matting the hair and darkening it. He got level with Ross face and then undid the top button of his jeans.

‘Take it down.’ he ordered and Ross rose just enough to grasp the zip in his teeth, sinking down and pulling the zipper with him.

‘Fuck yeah…’ Jim breathed. ‘I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.’ He ran his fingers through Ross’ hair, pushing his head back, running his thumb over Ross’ mouth. Ross took it in, shamelessly licking and sucking as Jim watched him, his free hand pushing his jeans and boxers down, hard cock jumping free. He steadied it and stepped close enough for the head to rest against Ross’ mouth. ‘Only when I say.’ he said, using the gathered pre-cum to slick Ross’ mouth. ‘Open your mouth.’ Ross did, watching Jim’s face as he pushed in just far enough for Ross to be able to lap at it like a cat. ‘Slowly.’ he said and Ross did as he was told, long flat licks to the head, tracing every line. Jim’s chest heaved with his laboured breaths and he never let Ross look away.

‘Take it.’ he breathed. ‘Show me how much you love sucking my cock.’ He thrust forward and Ross let him penetrate his mouth until he was almost gagging. He sucked hard and Jim gasped, pulling back and then thrusting in again. Ross was dropping fast, wanting nothing more than to choke himself on Jim’s cock, but then Jim took hold of his head. He kept him steady, controlling the slide in so that Ross could still breathe. ‘Gently.’ he breathed, ‘That’s so good, baby.’ He thrust a few more times and then pulled out. Ross moaned in disappointment. He was so hard again that he knew if Jim touched him just a little more, he’d come again, and he desperately wanted to come with Jim’s cock in his mouth. But Jim was now moving away again. He took a moment to strip and Ross heart jumped as he took in Jim’s naked body, all graceful lines and hard muscle.

‘Get up.’ Jim ordered, and Ross almost fell over himself in his rush to obey. When he was on his feet, Jim was the one to get on his knees, undoing Ross’ jeans and briefs and pulling them down until they were at his feet. He stepped out of them and Jim chucked them aside. Then he got up, but he was careful not to touch Ross any more than he had to. He guided him back down to his knees.

Ross could not function anymore, beyond simply doing what Jim wanted him to. He waited as Jim brought the small cushion and laid it down in front of him.

‘Head down.’ he said and Ross bent over until his forehead was comfortably settled. His backside was in the air, knees spread so he was open and exposed and there was one glorious moment where Jim ran his hand down his back, soothing and calming him. Then he went to the sea chest and picked up something from the bowl. Ross was so far gone he couldn’t even tell what it was. Then Jim picked up something else and walked back to behind him. There was a grunt as Jim got to his knees followed by a snap. Then there was a cool liquid trail that hit him at the top and ran down, icy cool and delicious. Jim kept pouring and the Ross felt his fingers flowing the trail, slicking him liberally with the icy cold lube. It made him gasp. One finger slid in, moving easily. Its passage was slow and infinitely gentle, probing and tracing his walls until he couldn’t take it and started to shake as his second orgasm built. But just as he was about to crest, it was taken away.

‘No.’ the stern tone was back. ‘I told you to wait until I give you permission.’ Ross choked back a noise that sounded like a sob and held it in until the feeling subsided enough for him to breathe easy again. But just as he did, the finger slipped inside again and this time it moved harder and faster, bringing him back up so quickly that he couldn’t hold it. He started to come but then Jim’s hand was around him, punishingly tight and the edge slipped away from him again, even as the intensity stayed. The pattern repeated itself, but this time there were three fingers, making him stretch and burn. They moved punishingly fast and Ross howled, tears sliding down his face at the pleasure-pain. He screamed and twisted and whined, pushing back into the fingers but again and again they kept him from coming. Then just as he thought it couldn’t get any more intense, the fingers were gone and then replaced by the icy cold slick of metal slipping in easily, lube everywhere and then Jim’s slick hand was on him, working him in firm strokes in time with the object inside him. His voice cracked and broke as it danced over his prostate, and he crested once more. Jim’s hand was brutal as it choked off the orgasm and Ross started crying in earnest, great wracking sobs as he was overloaded. The cold of the object inside him was starting to ebb and now all he could feel was its smooth surface, the pressure against his prostate enough to stimulate him, but gentle enough to not push him over.

Behind him, he could hear Jim crying out with him, panting hard, so close to losing it too.

‘Oh God, Ross.’ he ground out. ‘You are so amazing, so beautiful like this. I want to fuck you so hard.’ Ross felt Jim’s mouth at the base of his spine, tongue licking even as he worked the object inside him.

Everything was this, heat and light and sound all tied up in the man with him, the only one in the world who could break him apart like this and then put him back together afterwards. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him, how safe he felt even as Jim stripped him of everything he was.

Then the cold was gone, replaced by warm, throbbing heat and Jim was inside him, cock sliding into him easily in one smooth thrust. Ross felt the last surge as Jim fucked him, all composure gone now, driving in without consideration or mercy and Ross cried and cried, tears blurring his vision and every thrust sending him straight to heaven.

‘Come for me, baby.’ Jim choked out. ‘I want you to come with me. Together.’ Ross threw his head back, and their voices combined until they reached fever pitch.

And the he was flying, up, up, up until he felt like he was soaring above the earth and when he came it was like a nuclear detonation. He could hardly take in the feeling it was so all consuming. He knew he was screaming his heart out but he could hear nothing, only feel.

And then there was nothing but blissful ecstatic oblivion.

***********

He woke up in bed and realised vaguely that Jim must have carried him there. He was wrapped up in their duvet, like a caterpillar in a cocoon. He felt a warm weight next to him and fingers softly stroking his hair and face.  
‘Jim.’ he mumbled and felt the gentle press of lips to his temple.

‘I’m here, baby.’ Jim murmured. ‘I’m here.’

‘Love you.’ Ross mumbled. ‘Don’t go.’

Jim tilted Ross’ head, every movement tender and full of care. Ross couldn't focus, still dazed from the scene, but he felt Jim’s mouth against his, so warm and so real that all he could feel was safe and loved and wanted.

‘I love you.’ he replied. ‘I will always be here with you. Forever.’


End file.
